


Five Reasons Why Falling For Your CO Is A Very Bad Idea (By Susan Ivanova)

by Leyenn



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-16
Updated: 2009-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-03 02:50:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leyenn/pseuds/Leyenn





	Five Reasons Why Falling For Your CO Is A Very Bad Idea (By Susan Ivanova)

**1.**

She watches him sleep, in the middle of the night, lying against his chest in the darkness with her hand resting above his heart. For once, too, he's actually silent, blessing her with a few moments to think about everything that's going on.

She knows that this, like everything else, isn't precisely what Earthforce had in mind when they considered him for this job: in fact it's not likely that the late President had anything lower on his list of priorities than ensuring Susan Ivanova stopped spending all her nights alone. But displaced or not, at moments like this, gratitude is still foremost on her mind.

There's a kind of relaxed power about him when he sleeps, especially these days. She thinks he's getting it from Delenn, and Kosh, and first, foremost, from something inside himself, something that only comes to the surface here in the quiet. It's one of the many things that draw her here - more nights than not, now. She can't bring herself to admit to him just how protected she feels with the warm pressure of his hand on her back.

He grunts under his breath, and she smiles. John has power, yes, but no one said anything about him being dignified.

She moves a little closer and rests her head on the pillow beside him again, her forehead against his temple. The galaxy might be falling apart around them, but today is over, tomorrow isn't here yet, and she can afford to be protected for a little while.

She closes her eyes and his heartbeat sings against her fingertips, lulling her to sleep.

  


*

  


**2.**

"This is a very bad idea," she mutters to herself. "A very bad idea. Very bad."

The problem is that she's trying to listen, but it's not working. Mostly this is because she can't keep her mind from wandering, no matter what she keeps trying - and she is trying, everything she can think of.

Unfortunately there's only one thing she can think of right now, which is that it's only an hour and sixteen minutes until her duty shift finishes and then, then -

Oh, damn. "Route that cruiser to bay six," she snaps out, attempting to straighten her shoulders a little more than normal and hope no one notices her mood, which is at this moment what is in the common parlance known as _horny as all hell_.

It wouldn't be so bad if she could stop remembering the way his hands feel, hot at the small of her back, or the taste of his tongue slipping into her mouth. And it would definitely help if she didn't keep imagining the way he looks at her, like there's a slow fire burning behind his eyes...

She breathes deeply for a second. "Yes. Very, _very_ bad. Awful. Stupid, in fact."

"What was that, Commander?"

She jerks her head, surprised. Damn, was she saying that out loud?

"Um. Nothing." There's something in her throat and she could use a good coffee, that's why she coughs. Absolutely. "Status?"

"All boards show normal, Commander," Corwin says. She ignores the perplexed look on his face: hell, she's got enough of a reputation up here that one more bizarre mood won't make that much difference.

"Thank you, Lieutenant." _Okay. Hands clasped behind the back, spine straight, eyes level, but try not to look like you actually _want_ to stand at attention. That's right. Now, concentrate. Ships. Cargo. Passengers. Schedules. Paperwork._

John.

She sighs, allowing just a small part of herself - a very small part - to give in.

_One hour and seven minutes to go..._

  


*

  


**3.**

John holds her while she cries silently, stroking her hair in a way that feels far more intimate than she should feel with her commanding officer, even one she considers a friend.

"I'm sorry, Susan," he murmurs, again. He's been saying it off and on since he found her here, sitting on his couch with her knees drawn up beneath her chin and her face wet with tears she didn't trust herself to let out alone. "I'm sorry," he says, and then she finally turns to him and buries her face against his shoulder.

She never wanted this. She never wanted to trust, to love, to let herself be weak and risk everything like some foolish child. She never wanted this life or these secrets, this pain in her head and her heart that just keeps refusing to die. She never wanted to tell him she'd lied to him once, let alone a thousand times over.

She never wanted to _need_ to feel someone forgive her.

  


*

  


**4.**

With every drink it's getting harder to ignore their raucous laughter, even though Michael's all but holding her in the chair at this point.

"They're just letting off steam." He looks a little weathered around the edges, though. "Relax. They're probably talking about something else by now anyway."

Stephen sits down opposite and hands over, with the fast silence of self-preservation that one learns quickly around any Ivanov temper, another double house vodka on the rocks. He's got a look on his face.

She isn't sure whether to frown or sigh or swear, and could probably manage all three in conjunction right around now. "They're not, are they."

His expression says, please could someone else be telling her the news, but this was his round for it.

"Sorry," he mumbles into his glass.

She swears, and not prettily or incoherently, either. Michael whistles, impressed: Stephen spits his drink back into the glass in a clever effort both not to choke and to try conserving liquor. He seems to think he's going to need it.

She's with him on that one, at least. It's no fun having a bar fight sober.

She just doesn't see what's so damned amusing. Oh, so the Commander really is female under her uniform after all, what a surprise. _Cause for celebration if you're half the people in this room,_ she thinks darkly. Yeah, she knows the ones who've looked at her before, she's not blind. In fact she's got a pretty good eye for these things, it's just that she's a hell of a lot more selective in her choices than most of them hope for. The three ex-_Churchill_ pilots sitting behind her, for example. It's ridiculously obvious why they seem so interested in who she's currently inviting into her bed.

"They'll learn," Michael says hopefully. It's more hope that she'll forgo the dismembering than it is that they'll actually catch a clue.

"Very quickly, if they're not careful." Stephen meets her crackling gaze across the table and pretends a smile is actually going to do any good. "Look, we can leave..."

"No." She swallows her pride and her anger, even though it does mean nearly swallowing her tongue to do it. "It's fine."

After all, they've got to shut up eventually. Whether it's before they reach MedLab or after is a choice that's entirely theirs to make.

  


*

  


**5.**

The ring is plain, thin, rounded gold, slim and unobtrusive on her finger, but it feels like the world can see it all the same. She's turning it absently with her thumb, around and around and around: maybe she's not smiling, but that's only through the sheer power of concentration it takes to sit here and not make it obvious how she's waiting for the thunder of ships overhead.

John is talking up on the podium, making his sales pitch with the Ambassadors arrayed beside him and Delenn standing there, looking every inch the President in the regal cream robe that took hours to decide on. Regalia is the look of the moment, but she could care less: her attentions are fixed on John, back in Earthforce blue, this once.

Him, but not her.

She fidgets again, smoothing her cloak down. There's not an eye in the place - hell, on the planet that isn't focused on John and the conviction in his voice, and yet she still feels like they're all staring...

It takes her a moment to understand what's going on, and then she blushes, hoping to God that there's not going to be any footage of her after this is over. Just this once, let her luck be good enough for that - she'd rather not have a lasting reminder of realising he's learned how to open his mind to her on purpose, right up there on show in front of the entire galaxy.

The floor starts to shake: he looks over at her to the sound of the future roaring through the sky above them, and now, suddenly, she couldn't give a damn who sees any more.

  


*

  



End file.
